


Fly me to the Moon

by Stryfe



Series: Cablepool [2]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Frank Sinatra - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Wade finally gets a beach day with Nate, he also has booze
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stryfe/pseuds/Stryfe
Summary: The bitter taste of their divorce still lingered in Nathan's mouth. So, why had he received an invitation to a quiet beach from his ex-husband?





	

**Author's Note:**

> For my cute Silvia (@tehwolfeh) on twitter. Happy Late Birthday!!! Expect more chapters in this of course ^.^
> 
>  
> 
> All characters belong to their respective owners (Marvel, etc.). My stories may not be posted elsewhere or otherwise used or changed without my sole permission.

The bar was in the middle of nowhere, on small, sunny Caribbean island overlooked by tourists. It was quiet and calm.  

Climbing up the stairs of the porch, Nathan turned around, taking a deep breath of the sea air. He took one last glance at the clear blue water that was gradually turning into shades of purple with the oncoming sunset. The white sand glowed with an orange and gold tint, reflecting the dimming light.

Suppressing an urge to shiver from the gentle breeze—which was more than likely due to Wade’s random invitation than the actual weather—Nathan turned around and paused for a moment, before pushing open the door to the bar.

While the exterior of the bar was rough from weathering the elements for so long, the wood lacking shine and color, the inside was a one hundred and eighty degree turn from that. Every ounce of wood on the inside was polished and waxed, giving a beautiful shine that showed off the deep red-brown hue of the Brazilian cherry wood.

The entire bar was empty and clean, save for the mouthy mercenary standing behind the counter where the bartender should be.

If the bar needed a double take, then Wade would certainly need hours of uninterrupted gazing. Although Wade had his mask on, the rest of his Deadpool suit was missing, replaced by a French maid’s dress. The laced headpiece sat firmly around Wade’s head, even as he bounced around, dusting and organizing behind the counter.

Wade also wore a necklace, a black choker with a ruby cut in the shape of a heart. The maid’s dress was of typical design for its style with the exception of the usually white parts of the dress having been replaced with a pretty crimson color and the unusually deep V-neck displaying even more of Wade’s skin. While the counter he was behind hid the rest, Nathan was pretty sure he’d seen black fishnet stockings over Wade’s legs, complimented by dark red high heels.

Which made Nathan feel a little underdressed in his dark blue t-shirt and black cargo pants, which were starting to feel a little too tight.

“Come on, have a seat, big boy,” Wade said, an impatient grin in his voice.

Walking forward, Nathan picked a stool in the middle, closest to where Wade had picked up a glass, which he was polishing with a rag.

“So, what will it be? I know how to make just about anything, Nate, just don’t ask me to pick otherwise you’ll regret it when I mix most of these bottles behind me together,” Wade said, gesturing to the wall of bottles and glasses behind him, all of which seemed to be more varied than any bar Nathan had entered before.

“Wade… why did you set this all up?” Nathan grabbed Wade's hand, trying to search those blank white eyes for an answer.

“Nate…” Wade breathed out, hand squeezing back. Placing a hand behind Wade’s neck, Nathan couldn’t help but rub a finger over the soft lace as he pulled Wade towards him until their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling together in the strange silence. Nathan closed his eyes.

“Ok, anyway, enough of that!” Wade said suddenly, pulling back and leaving Nathan with an empty hand again. “So, your drink?” He giggled, leaning against the far counter.

“Shot of whiskey,” Nathan replied, raising an eyebrow at Wade’s suggestive posing that left more of his legs visible.

Nathan couldn’t help but watch Wade move, trying to memorize every detail. The civil war had left them on bad terms, and now, after what felt like an eternity, Wade had invited him to a bar.

With Wade dressed like that, Nathan wanted to say that he knew exactly why Wade had invited him. Wanted to say it was because Wade had forgiven him and wanted to get back together…. Except Nathan wasn't sure, since little about Wade ever seemed certain. Not even what appeared to be.

Sliding the shot glass onto the counter, Wade leaned over and propped his head on a hand.

“Wade, you never answered me,” Nathan said, frowning slightly at the mercenary.

“Maybe I don’t intend to?” Wade said, walking off towards the end of the counter, ruffled skirt bouncing up and down.

Standing on his toes, Wade began picking out bottles from the shelves to place them on the counter in front of him while he told a story about his adventures as a pirate.

Nathan missed Wade’s rambling; that gravelly Demi Moore voice running nonstop, and the smell of gunpowder and cooking spices. He had missed the sight and touch of Wade’s scarred skin against his, and the constant mentions of WD-40. Nathan had missed all that, and more.

How badly he wanted to hold Wade close and make sure he never left again.

Nathan didn't know what was scarier: that he had missed Wade so much, or that keeping Wade close, whether Wade liked it or not, seemed so appealing now?

Nathan picked up the shot of whiskey and swallowed it down. What was he supposed to say? He’d tried to get Wade on his side by screwing over his legal-for-once job, and had completely fucked himself over by doing so.

He'd done Wade wrong. Which meant that this whole beach scene Wade had prepared was wrong. Wade shouldn’t be so casual with him like this, not after what had happened. Why invite your ex to a bar on the beach unless you were going to hide the body somewhere no one would find it? Wade certainly had the skill to do it.

Nathan had seen enough of the infamous Dreadpool during his multiverse travels to know that Wade could do it.

Not that Dreadpool, when he had killed the off the inhabitants of his world, had killed the alternate version of Nathan. No, he’d been saving the alternate Nathan until the very end; Dreadpool’s own version of star-crossed lovers, one that wouldn’t end until all else had.

Which was, apparently, why the so called comic book writers hadn’t shown him dying in a last stand like the rest of the world had.

Not that Nathan had been able to save his alternate self. Perhaps Dreadpool was still out there on his multi-world killing spree. (Nathan was comforted by the fact that in at least one version of Dreadpool’s existence, he’d time traveled to save Wade from Ravenscroft Asylum, preventing the world from dying and saving Wade from becoming Dreadpool. There was always hope with, and for, Wade.)

Which brought Nathan to his all too hopeful answer: was it possible that Wade, by bringing him here, wanted to rekindle what they’d had?

The scene was romantic, night or day. They were at a sandy white beach in a quaint, empty bar, and Wade was dressed in such a manner that would make even the most pious monk think a few lustful thoughts on sight.

“Shit!” Looking over, Nathan caught Wade pouring another drink into the sink closest to him.

“Wade, what’s wrong?” Nathan asked, standing up.

“I, uh…. Well, I’m trying to make an Adios Motherfucker drink. But, I don’t think I’m getting the recipe right.” Wade held his wet hands above the sink, wanting to dry them but also not wanting to get the maid’s dress wet. Which put him in a conundrum since he seemed too stubborn to go retrieve the rags he’d left near Nathan.

However, while Wade may not know how to make the drink, Nathan certainly did.

Every step Nathan made sounded like an earthquake in his own ears, and his heart was pounding in between and with each and every step.

“Nate, normally the customers aren’t allowed behind the bar,” Wade said, turning to look at him, possibly glaring behind the mask. “Take a seat, I can totally fix this! I made sure to write it down somewhere…” Wade trailed off, before cursing again. “Shit, I think I actually left that list in my suit.”

Not bothering to respond, Nathan walked up behind Wade and pulled him close. Wrapping his TO arm around Wade, he made sure to take Wade’s hands one at a time and dried both of them on his shirt.

“It’s ok, I know how to make the drink, Wade,” Nathan said, pressing his face against Wade’s neck and grabbing Wade’s closest hand, interlacing their fingers.

“You know, you’re a little close, Nate. Which, if you didn’t hear me, customers are _really_ supposed to stay on the other side of the counter so they can be served properly. I mean, seriously, there’s something called _etiquette_. And you’re breaking a lot of those rules,” Wade said, words spilling from his mouth nervously. Despite the nervousness, Wade didn’t bother removing his hand from Nathan’s, nor did he bother making an attempt to push Nathan away. Maybe Wade did want them together again, too…

“Wade,” Nathan murmured, closing his eyes and pulling Wade closer. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“It’s not like you had to,” Wade muttered, sounding bitter and hurt now.

“You make me want to let go of everything else and just hide away with you somewhere no one else can find us,” Nathan murmured, almost despairingly. “You make me want to spend every moment with you, when I can’t without abandoning my duties to the world. I want you and can’t have you because I make a mess of your life and— _stab my eyes_ , Wade, I want you the most,” Nathan gasped out, wrapping both of his arms around Wade without letting go of the sole hand he held.

“I… are you okay, Nate?” Wade asked, nervously wriggling his body. “Is it me, or is it a bit hot in here? You know, I think alcohol would fix that. Let’s drink, Nate! Or take a cold shower. How about a dip in the ocean?” Wade rambled off his suggestions, clearly wanting an out to the situation.

Nathan knew all too well why he wanted that out. Too many people had abused him, Nathan having stupidly joined that list, and Wade didn’t want to get hurt again. Nathan had died on him far too many times to reassure Wade that everything would be okay.

Pressing long and slow kisses to Wade’s neck, Nathan took his time traveling up, stopping just short of Wade’s lips. Wade’s free hand slid up, placing itself on Nathan’s cheek.

Rubbing his face against Wade’s hand, memories surged back with every wonderful touch of Wade’s beautiful skin to his face; memories of them in bed together, memories of Wade teasing him, memories of Wade giving him a slow kiss under a full moon on Providence while a meteor shower had lit up the sky above them like a torrent of fiery tears. They’d held their heads together, bodies close and wrapped up with the others’, dancing slow on Nathan’s balcony to Sinatra’s _Fly Me To The Moon._

“Wade, would you do me one favor?” Nathan asked, slipping Wade’s mask off so he could look into those precious brown eyes.

“You want me to kill someone?” Wade asked, glancing away from Nathan’s gaze.

“No,” Nathan said, tracing the back of a finger feather-light along Wade's cheek. “Dance with me… outside, on the beach. It’s a full moon, you realize that, right?” Nathan asked, carefully nudging Wade’s face back towards him when the mercenary still refused to look at him.

There was an uncomfortable twist in Nathan's gut. “Please?” he besought softly. “We can’t let that beautiful maid’s dress go to waste.”

“Well… when you put it like that,” Wade said, a small quirk to his lips, “I _suppose_ I _could_ take time out of my busy bartending schedule to teach you the finer things in life…”

Smiling gently at Wade as the mercenary launched into another story (this one about a time he'd apparently helped Clint Barton save the chef to their favorite Mexican restaurant while dressed as a pirate; Nathan didn't know why Wade was so into pirates that day), Nathan pulled back and offered his arm to Wade, who took it as they headed towards the bar’s entrance.

Stopping just short of the door, Nathan leaned down and quickly removed his shoes and socks, placing them both by the door’s entrance. Remaining on his knees, Nathan faced himself towards Wade who looked down at him curiously, though he didn't stop the story (something about Hulk arrows?).

Placing his hand on the back of Wade’s knee, Nathan pulled it up gently, using the other hand to take off the tall and dark red heels from Wade’s feet, placing the shoes next to his own. Trailing his hand up the black fishnet stockings, Nathan stood up, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Wade’s cheek.

Opening the door for Wade, Nathan held it, smiling slightly as the mercenary flounced through the doorway.

Nathan closed the door behind them as they stepped into the cool night air. The beach was still as empty—a long swath of uninterrupted matte-blue that melded into the glittering ocean, like a cosmic painter was brushing stroking their brush back and forth over the border where sand met water.

The full moon lit up the beach to a dimmed dancefloor, and the waves were their live band, playing them a slow waltz.

Once again holding his arm out for Wade, Nathan moved forward, skipping the three steps on the porch to step straight onto cool sand.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Wade said. “Not to mention you’re polite. What happened to the man who tore up the bed with me, huh?” he joked, leaning his head on Nathan’s shoulder as they kept walking forward. “Not that you aren’t polite a lot of the time, but you never tend to do stuff like this. I mean, I wasn’t even expecting you to come in the first place. I mean, I had hoped but…” Wade trailed off, the last few words swallowed by the quiet song of the ocean waves.

“You tell me why you invited me, and I’ll tell you why I came here,” Nathan offered, stopping them a few feet from the darkened line where the sand turned wet.

Sliding his left hand to Wade's shoulder blade, Nathan grabbed Wade’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Moving his right hand so that it was out in the open air, held up, Wade responded by resting his free hand on Nathan’s chest, right over his heart.

“So, why dancing?” Wade asked, raising hairless eyebrows at Nathan.

“I will answer every question you want if you tell me why you invited me here—to a beach in the Caribbean—after our divorce, while dressed like that,” Nathan said, motioning to Wade’s outfit.

“I recently bought this dress and needed to show it off,” Wade grinned. “You were the only person I could-”

“Wrong,” Nathan smirked, feeling quite confidant as he began guiding Wade in a twirling waltz. Front step, side step, step, step, step, turn, step, step. They danced on the wet sand, the waves washing every so often over their ankles. Their feet kicked it up water against their calves. “You could have shown it off to literally anyone else. You aren’t shy about this kind of thing, Wade, far from it. Care to try again?”

Shooting him an irritated look, Wade continued, “As I was saying before you _interrupted,_ Nate, I needed to show it off to my _closest friend_ , which happens to be _you_ since you put up with most of my crap. Thankfully, that one isn’t literal,” Wade snorted, giggling like a small child would after saying ‘duty.’

“…So, I’m still your closest friend?” Nathan leaned in, letting their foreheads touch and breaths mingle together. He slowed them into a box step; front, side, together; back, side, together.

“Just because we’re… _divorced,_ ” Wade spat out the word, almost hesitating to say it. “Doesn’t mean we aren’t best buds still, ya putz.”

“While true, you’re still not telling me the entire truth, Wade,” Raising his arm and guiding Wade into a turn, the mercenary's skirt splaying out as he spun, Nathan could feel his hope dying a bit. “Please, just tell me?” Nathan pleaded softly, gazing into Wade’s eyes for any sign or hint towards an answer.

Wade stepped towards him, closer than was efficient for a waltz, hiding his head against Nathan’s chest, just under his chin.

Front step, side step, together; back step, side step, together. Their toes drew lines over lines in the wet sand.

“You know, I missed our dancing together,” Wade said, placing a hesitant kiss on Nathan’s neck. “Whatever happened to your purple pants? Did the Hulk borrow those and never return them?” Wade's eyes widened. “Oh! Or did _you_ steal the _Hulk's_ pants?!”

Nathan smiled slightly. “I did not steal the Hulk's pants. Nor did the Hulk steal mine.” A pause. Then a quiet: “Something else was stolen from me, though.”

“Oh?” Wade asked, a single brow raising, increasing the amount of shadow beneath it. “And what did you hang on to so loosely that it was ripped from thy mighty and metal-fingered grasp?”

“My heart, apparently,” Nathan murmured wryly. “And I think you know who stole it.”

Wade's breath caught. A toe caught in the wet sand, and he tripped forward, pressing even closer into Nathan's chest.

“I didn't steal it,” Wade murmured into blue cloth. “It fell into my hands, and I didn't realize what it was till it started bleeding when I poked it with a knife just to see what would happen.”

Front step, side step, together; back step, side step, together.

Nathan sighed, and Wade's head rose with the movement.

“And I didn't notice I had yours,” Nathan murmured, “until I'd crushed it while trying to hold onto to you.”

Wade hummed, closing his eyes. Against his cheek he could feel the heat from Nathan's skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. “There's a quote about that, I think.’Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away.' If I remember correctly, anyway. From some American poet or something? Possibly related to Spider-Man.”

Front step, side step, together; back step, side step, together. Front step, side step, together; back step, side step, together.

“You're thinking,” Wade accused, pulling back slightly to narrow his eyes at the mutant.

The cool night breeze ruffled Nathan's hair. His white strands shimmered silver-blue in the moonlight, but the shadows around his eyes rendered them unreadable.

“Guilty as charged,” came the baritone murmur.

Their slow dancing had stopped, and they stood still, but the waves continued their soft song nevertheless.

 


End file.
